


The Truth the Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth

by rectificatory



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bondage, Edging, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rectificatory/pseuds/rectificatory
Summary: Kenny Lewis is in trouble, and with a few small words he can be 'free', but dare he say them?
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 5





	1. The Present

Kenny Lewis was locked in a battle for his soul, the two most fundamental side of his nature were currently at war with one another, and the tide was beginning to turn.

On the one side was a newly awakened biological imperative in the nearly twelve-year-old boy. This was a description Kenny took very seriously. Technically he was eleven-years-and-seven-months-old but, as he pointed out if anyone called him a mere eleven-year-old, which was much close to twelve than it was to eleven. Puberty was being very kind to Kenny so far, he has the second-longest cock in his circle of friends, longer even than an actual twelve-year-old boy who lives two streets over, and held the unshakeable conviction that he would be the youngest of the group to actually shoot something, even if it was the tiniest, clearest and most watery emission possible. Having been taught the unending joys of masturbation by one of the teenagers who tolerated the younger boys' presence, Kenny engaged in the wondrous activity as often as he could. Dry cumming meant no mess to clean up and virtually no recovery time between the toe-curling experiences, Kenny spent most of his private moments jacking-off and feeling the pleasant tingles as many times as he could, and in as short a time as possible.

The other side of the battle was a quality, ingrained in him by his parents from a young age, that he held with great pride. It was this quality that caused other parents, teachers and just about all other authority figures to hold Kenny in high regard. His propensity to tell the truth, as well as to be honest and reliable, conferred upon him the trust and adoration of every adult that he met. He was held up as a shining beacon of what a young gentleman should be, and he enjoyed the rewards that his diligence and sincerity afforded him. That is not to say the Kenny never lied, he could keep secrets (and not tell anyone ever, even if they asked him) and he knew the importance of telling a small lie to protect someone or something important to him. And now, here he was, considering the possibility of telling the biggest lie in his life. It would be one of those good lies, to protect someone, even if it was someone he had only just met. Kenny wanted to help his new friend, but was fearful of the consequences that would follow.

Kenny had never expected to ever be in a Constabulary Office other than to had in an item of lost property or such like, and certainly never to be in an interview room as he was now. He had never even had cause to imagine what such a room would look like, and if he had, it would not have been like this. Only two features adorned the clinically-white panelled room, the most obvious one was the weighty and secure door with a small slightly off-white panel centred in its upper half. A panel through which he knew the Constables could see in, but he could not see out of. The other object in the room is the thing that Kenny is currently sitting on, but it would be far too generous to call it a chair. Metal rods topped with dense foam cushions, barely wide enough to prevent whomever was sitting on them from falling off, not that it was possible for it to happen to Kenny as he was tightly restrained. Balling his fists and shaking his head were the greatest movements he could perform, and he was doing both of them at this very moment.

“But I am telling the truth!” the boy wailed as 7th Constable Daniels released Kenny's throbbing cock. Constable Daniels was one of the lowest ranked men at the Office, however his youthful demeanour and relative inexperience in general investigative work were generally overlooked due to his exceptional skill at performing the interrogation technique Kenny was currently enduring. “Please just let me cum!” Kenny sobbed, “Of course you can cum.” the Constable said kindly. By now Kenny knew not to believe the lie the man told him many, many times before. He just sobbed and waited for the rest of the now familiar platitude to come, “When you tell me the truth.”

This was torture, and surly it was illegal, Kenny told himself. Someone would burst it at any moment and rescue him from his waking nightmare. For hours-and-hours the Constable had skilfully masturbated him, a slow and merciless stroking, every time stopping just short of letting Kenny have those magical feelings. He did not know it was possible not to cum for so long and feared that something may break inside him and he'd never be able to cum again. The urgency to cum was slowly fading now, but this brought Kenny no relief, for he knew that soon the Constable would ask the question again, and the cycle would begin once more.

“Did you steal the item in question?” Constable Daniels asked. Kenny had been told what that item was when he was first arrested, but he no longer knew or cared what it was. He just knew that he had stolen nothing, but did not know how to convince the man of the truth. The Constable's fingers delicately took hold of the now permanently hard three-and-three-quarter-inch penis and resumed the maddening manipulations. Minutes later Kenny tried to conceal his approaching orgasm, if he could trick the Constable into making him cum, he would be able to think clearly again, he could explain to the man that he was innocent, and he could leave this awful place. Yes, it was just about here, just a couple of more seconds and it would all be over. “Don't let him know you're about to cum.” he yelled to himself inside his head. But it was all for naught, the boy's body betrayed him, just as it had dozens of times before. Constable Daniels was well-trained to notice the signs of an impending orgasm, signs that the boy didn't even know existed and could never of hidden from the man even if he did. With his usual immaculate timing, Constable Daniels fingers retreated from the pulsing shaft, and he savoured the painful groan of loss and longing that slipped from the boy's throat.

“No.” moaned Kenny in frustration at once more being denied. “I don't believe you.” the Constable told him, and it took the boy several moments to gather his thoughts and understand that the Constable had taken his moan to be his answer to the constantly asked question, and once more the Constable still didn't believe it. That realization had an unusually calming effect on Kenny, the Constable was never going to believe him, and the only way to cum was to tell him what he wanted to hear. So it came down to this, two impossible options: Tell the truth and never get to cum again OR Tell a lie, get to cum, and suffer the consequences. In the end there was only one choice really, thought Kenny.

“He'll break soon, you know.” 4th Constable Grant told the teenager. There was genuine regret in the Constable's voice, something Laurence had never heard before in all of his encounters with the man. Jaw clenched shut, Laurence watched the video feed from the interview room next to him where the boy he had met this morning, currently restrained in the same fashion as himself, begging to be allowed to cum. “You've still got a chance to stop this, to save him.” the Constable said as his tapped the flaccid cock, which was by great coincidence currently the same length as the other boy's erect cock, hanging between the teenagers legs to make sure he was receiving Laurence's full attention. “He'll get processed you know?” Constable Grant reminded Laurence who shuddered at the thought.

The risk of being processed had terrified Laurence every time he had been caught (allegedly) stealing, but it had added to the excitement of the cat-and-mouse game he played with the Constabulary, there was no fun if the stakes were low. But this, was different. He had never intended anyone else to get processed, especially not some innocent kid who had been kind to him. “Hi, you look sad, do you want to hang out?” these words were about to change his or Kenny's life forever, one of them was going to be processed because of Laurence's actions, one of them telling the truth or the other lying would decide who it would be.


	2. The Past

Constable Grant sighed as he read the profile of the young man he was about to interview. Laurence Irwin, age 12, height 1.5 m, weight 49 kg, eyes green, hair brown. Average student; first offence. 95% accuracy detection of theft obtained by Sec-Cam; no physical evidence found. So a full confession would be needed, not just a confirmation of guilt. He disliked this part of the job, having to break such a young kid whose ignorance or indifference to the consequences of his petty thievery would forever change his life. 'Zero-tolerance', that was for everyone else, he was just a kid, they wouldn't really process him — that's what they all thought, and they were all wrong. Glancing through the observation port built into the door, Constable Grant noticed an unusual detail about the boy. He looked anxious — that was normal enough, most kids his age didn't expect to be in the situation he found himself in — but he wasn't fidgeting in the chair and his eyes weren't darting around the room, looking in vain for some means of escape. That was certainly odd, but the most obvious difference that he had noticed offered a potential explanation.

The detail in question that drew the Constable's gaze was the boy's penis, 9 cm long in its current state by the man's estimation — and he had seen enough erections, large and small, to be confident of his prediction. The fear of being restrained in the chair was usually enough to suppress that response, and the enforced nudity — particularly in boy's of Laurence's age — only compounded that effect. Observing the boy for a few long moments, Constable Grant allowed himself to form a hypothesis — his interviewee was not anxious for his ordeal to finish, he was anxious for it to begin. Perhaps he was here to test the limits of his boyish bravado or maybe it was part of an initiation ritual for a new gang, but that was not for Constable Grant to discover. He had a task to complete, and that is what he would do, whether the boy ended up confessing and being processed, or he was set free at the allotted hour, a gibbering wreck eternally on the cusp of ejaculation, the Constable was sure that the experience would dissuade the boy from committing any further crimes.

It was the latter of the two possibilities that came to pass, with the boy staggering off to presumably find the nearest private space in which to finish what the Constable had started. He had to give the boy some credit though, he had never begged for release — he had endured all of Constable Grant's efforts to make him confess, uttering only four words. “I didn't do it.” — a constant refrain to the Constables questioning. Naturally over the course of the interview, and with the application of the man's skilled digits, the reply had become inter-spaced with grunts, moans & pants — taking longer each time to answer the question, as if having to remind himself each time of the words he needed to say, not the words his tortured cock wanted him to say.

Several months passed before Constable Grant was once again reviewing Laurence Irwin's profile. Taking notice of the subtle changes — the boy was a little taller and skinnier, older too of course — as well as the more pressing one: second offence. “Mr. Irwin, we meet for a second time.” Laurence gave the man a slight smile, seemingly pleased that the had been recognized and remembered, “I am rather disappointed to see you again. I would have thought that your previous experience would have had a lasting impression.” The boy's smile fell from his lips, to be replaced by the stock phrase — “I didn't do it.” Shaking, barely able to stand and with an ever present tent in his pants, Laurence staggered away from the Constabulary Office after another narrowly unsuccessful attempt at extracting a confession by Constable Grant.

“I see you have sprouted a hair down there.” Constable Grant told the boy as he ran his finger down Laurence's shaft during their fourth 'meeting'. Beaming with pride at his own maturing body, plus the fact that the Constable had noticed and commented on it. “You don't deserve it.” Constable Grant informed the boy, and reaching into his pocket, pulled out and unsheathed a stubby but razor-sharp knife. Whimpering as the man brought it close to his ball-sac, Laurence could neither see nor feel the decisive act as the Constable severed his pride-and-joy. The boy could only imagine it floating listlessly and unceremoniously to the floor to be lost forever in the dust and dirt.

“There's a veritable forest down there now.” Constable Grant told the boy, with the merest hint of sarcasm in his voice. Dozens of hairs adorned Laurence's testicles now, thicker and darker than they had been before. It had been over a year since man and boy had first met, and Laurence's slowly maturing body was constantly giving Constable Grant new ways to torture the boy. Taking hold of the most prominent hair, the Constable gave it a smart tug, eliciting a gasp of pain from the boy.

Laurence was so close now, the closest he had ever been while strapped to the chair, he was going to cum soon. Desperately trying to avoid doing so as, contrary to Constable Grants belief, relieving this maddening ache was never Laurence's goal. After the interviews, instead of finding a private spot and masturbating furiously to finally get to cum, Laurence would make his way home and try to continue the edging session. Unfortunately for the now teenage boy, his inexperience in the art of prolonging an orgasm failed to achieve the desired results. A teenager who ends up being disappointed that he shot his load is a very rare thing indeed. “Ow!” the word left Laurence's lips involuntarily as Constable Grant once more yanked on one of his pubes to forestall the boy's unwanted ejaculation.

Another day, the same questions. Laurence repeated the words again-and-again as the pain and pleasure coursed through his dick. “What is your name?” “I didn't do it.” It took him a long time to realize that his response didn't make sense. With great difficulty he focused on Constable Grant's face, yeah, he looked annoyed. “Well Mr. Irwin, if you can't be bothered to pay attention to me, I think our time today has come to an end.” The Constable turned and left, and without looking back told the boy, “6th Constable Cole will escort you out.” Laurence wasn't sure what was worse, the man abandoning his work on his dick mid-session or the indifference the man had shown him as he left. He felt betrayed and vowed never to see the man again. His shoplifting days were over.

Laurence had never intended to get Kenny into trouble, the kid seemed nice and was fun to hang around with. Truth be told, he never intended to get himself into trouble that day either, he had stolen the useless piece of junk before he even realized he had done it. Dumping it without Kenny seeing him and hastily making up an excuse to leave — while apologizing for suddenly abandoning the boy — Laurence did not want to involve him in his criminal act. But here they were, both of them about to be interviewed, one confused about a crime he had no knowledge of, the other torn between the game he so enjoyed playing and his loyalty to his new friend.

§

He wasn't stalking the teenager, he wasn't even spying on him, not really. He had just been following the other boy around the shopping district for, like, 20 minutes; and now he was watching him intently; from behind a bush; so that he wouldn't be seen. OK, maybe he was spying on the teenager, just a little bit. It was just that he was so nervous — while he had done what he was about to do more than a dozen times before, his parents had always been there to back him up. But he would be doing it himself this time, he had decided to do it himself, no-one else knew what he was going to do. “You can do this!” he said to himself as he slapped his own face with both his hands — he'd seen people do that in movies before they did something that scared them, maybe it made them feel braver, but it just made his face sting.

He stepped out from behind the bush where he had been — not hiding… waiting!, yes that was the right word for what he had been doing, waiting! — and strode confidently over to the boy sat on the bench. “Hi, you look sad, do you want to hang out?” Kenny said, and when the boy didn't respond added, “We'll have fun!” The teenager looked around cautiously, expecting to be the subject of some lame prank, but nothing else happened. Looking back into the boy's smiling face, Laurence wondered what he had done to deserve this reprieve from the monotony of his life. “Okay.” although Laurence did not know it, with that single word his whole life was about to change. The boy offered his hand to the teenager who, upon taking it, was whisked away to an adventure he had scarcely dreamed about.

They had gone barely 20 meters before the boy skipped a few steps in front of Laurence, then stopped and turned to face him. “My name's Kenny, by the way. What's yours?” the boy asked, once more offering his hand. “Laurence.” the teenager told him taking hold of his hand. Kenny gave their hands a firm shake, released his grasp, then motioned for Laurence to continue following him. “That place sells the best ice-cream.” Kenny said pointing to a café in front of which was a number of tables with brightly coloured parasols. “And that's were my soccer team got our uniforms.” he said, indicating the sportswear store. “And that's where my mum buys my underwear.” Kenny told the teenager without thinking. Blushing profusely, Kenny was saved from total embarrassment by Laurence telling him that his own mother frequented the same shop.

“This is my favourite store ever!” Kenny told Laurence, looking at the building reverently. The shop windows displayed a dizzying variety of books, models and various sorts of playing cards. Hearing the older boy chuckle, Kenny turned around to see what was so funny, “What?” he asked the older boy who was just staring at Kenny's expression of awe. “What?” the boy asked again, getting a little annoyed. “Nothing. I just like seeing you look happy.” was all the teenager said. “Let's go in.” Kenny said to Laurence as the older boy allowed himself to be guided through the door.

“Hey Tal!” called Kenny as walked down one of the aisles, towards a slightly dishevelled looking man. Laurence thought that he was probably a student from the University judging by his apparent age. “I don't know if that’s his real name,” Kenny told Laurence in a whisper, “or if he just made it up ‘cause it sounds cool.” Looking at all of the fantasy and science fiction stuff packing the shelves, Laurence could believe either was true.

“Kenny!” the man greeted him enthusiastically, “You've brought a friend. Tell me, what is he into?” Kenny glanced at Laurence before answering and thinking maybe he should have found out before coming here, “Actually, I don't know.” Nodding sagely Tal spoke to both boys, “Ah. I understand completely.”, and after a significant glance at Kenny, spoke to Laurence directly. “Well my new friend, please feel free to browse all of my wares. If you want a closer look at any of the models, the cabinets are all unlocked, just grab them out of there.” Turning his back on the two of them with a flourish he called over his shoulder, “I'll be in the back painting if you need anything Kenny.”

Kenny observed — he was no longer spying, he told himself with relief — the teenager that he had befriended flipping through fantasy novels, role-playing game rule books and the various fake technical manuals of numerous spaceships. He wasn't sure if the older boy was enjoying his trip to the store as much as he was, but at least he didn't seem to be bored. Following Laurence to the display cases of the intricately detailed and painted models, he saw the teenager hesitate as he went to open the door. “Here.” said Kenny as he opened the door for Laurence, “It's fine.” Kenny assured him as he picked his favourite piece from the display and handed it to Laurence. Kenny watched with delight as Laurence held the figure up for closer inspection and, as he rotated it, mutter to himself — “It's beautiful.” “Yeah, Tal painted those ones personally.” Kenny told Laurence, breaking into a grin at the look of surprise on the teen's face. “He's really good.” Laurence said as he replaced the figure and picked up another.

“You didn't expect that you'd enjoy looking around a geek store, did you.” asked Kenny teasingly as he and Laurence sat eating ice-cream. “No.” came the reply between heaped spoonfuls, “And this is awesome too!”. “No!” Kenny said forcefully, as he saw Laurence's hand dive towards the pocket of the teenager's hoodie, this time actually making it inside before Kenny could tell him to stop, “It's my treat, you don't have to pay me back.” The usual protests of it not being fair that the younger boy had paid for the two of them didn't come this time. Kenny noticed with some concern that Laurence was looking pale. “You OK?” he asked nervously. “Yeah. Sorry. Just remember, I've got to be somewhere. Sorry.” Laurence stammered as he got up to leave before hesitating briefly, “Maybe can we meet again. Same place. Next week?” he asked the boy hopefully. “Sure!” Kenny replied, feeling better now, knowing that his new friend didn't intend to abandon him.

Kenny watched as Laurence walked away, pausing only to throw something in the trash. This was turning out to be one of the best days of his life, Kenny thought to himself just as he felt a hand grip his shoulder. Looking up, he was quite surprised to see a Constable standing next to him, “I think you better come with me, sonny.” was the only thing the man said before hauling Kenny to his feet.


	3. Chapter 3

“I did it.” Resignation. A lack of emotion. There was no fanfare at the moment of confession. “Thank you, for being honest.” The Constable told the young man.

“When will I be processed?” asked the teenager, he needed to focus on an objective or a timeline, anything so that he wouldn’t panic. “You won’t be. The shopkeeper isn't pressing charges“

Something broke inside Laurence, what had been the point then? Why had the boy been tortured? Why had he been forced to watch?

“Why do you play this game, eh? Steal some worth-less trinket, get hauled in here, only to narrowly escape getting processed.” the Constable asked, breaking the silence. “I just want someone notice me.” Laurence replied without thinking. “What about your parents?” the man asked reasonably, “Tch!” was the only response. “I see.”

“We can help, you know. Help you have a better life.” — “I don't need help.” Laurence spat back, “Son, you just nearly condemned a young kid to life as a slave, so I think you do.”

The enormity of what the Constable had just said slowly started to sink in, and the teenager began weeping openly.

Through the fog surrounding his brain Kenny saw Constable Daniels' hand move to his ear, then back down again.

“I believe you.” the Constable told the boy, but Kenny just closed his eyes and groaned, this was obviously another trick.

Constable Daniels took hold of Kenny's dick again and began to caress it lovingly.

Kenny let out a gasp of pleasure, the mechanical, measured strokes the man had previously utilized when jacking him off had gone, replaced by a wonderful new sensation.

The boy allowed himself to entertain the remote possibility that the Constable did actually believe that he was telling the truth all along, that he was going to be allowed to…

Head thrown back in a silent scream, Kenny experienced the most profound orgasm of his young life, it was as though his entire body was concentrated in his dick.

He must have passed out, because he was just waking up, “Was that the first time?” asked a familiar voice.

Looking up Kenny saw Constable Daniels gesturing to his cock, from which hung a small bead of almost transparent fluid.

“Can you let me out of this thing now that you know I didn't do anything wrong? Please Constable Daniels?” Kenny's question broke the silence that had fallen in the room as he tried to shake his sweat drenched hair from off of his face. The Constable chuckled good naturally, “If I did that now Mr. Lewis, do you think you'd be able to stand, or would you just end up collapsing in an undignified mess on the floor?” Kenny considered this for a moment, he could barely lift his head to look at the man, and had no evidence to show that his other limbs wouldn't be in the same condition. “I think I like being where I am at the moment.” the boy said. “Good choice.” the man replied.

“Are the cameras still recording?” Kenny asked after a couple more minutes of silence, “Yes, they are running continuously, for your protection of course. Why do you ask?” Kenny paused, trying to gather his courage to ask the man, who even though was acting friendly towards him now, still intimidated him greatly. “Because, I wanted to ask you to do something personal for me. And it feels a bit strange doing it if I'm being watched.” he explained slowly, “Stranger than being edged for the best part of four hours, whilst begging to cum for at least three of them? I'm intrigued.” The Constable gazed down at Kenny, his face softening and looking curious.

“Well, all that was meant to happen in here, wasn't it. I mean it's your job to do it, 'cause you thought I'd broke the law.” The constable couldn't deny that what the boy had said was accurate, but it still didn't explain his desire for privacy now. “I want to taste it!” Kenny blurted out, “I want to taste my cum, and I can't use my hands, so can you feed it to me?” his cheeks flushed as he looked pleadingly at the man, “Please?” Kenny waited as he watched Constable Daniels glanced at the small deposit of watery cum that still clung to the end of his cock. “It would be my honour.” the man said as he collected the droplet.

“Ow! Sensitive!” Kenny gasped as the man's finger made contact with his still hard cock. “I'm not surprised.” Constable Daniels told him, “I had to work you hard, harder than usual for a first-timer.” Kenny wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, but he didn't have the opportunity to decide as the man slipped his finger into the boy's waiting mouth. He hadn't really expected to taste anything, but he was still disappointed with the lack of flavour. Swallowing unnecessarily, due to the fact that the small amount of cum had already dispersed into his mouth, Kenny was glad that he got to have the first taste anyway.

Laurence was sat on the middle cushion of an annoyingly comfortable couch. Usually he would have sat at either end of the 3-seater — preferring somewhere to rest his arms, which he thought made him look cooler — but the cushion was green (his favourite for as long as he could remember), and he wanted to be close to something that felt safe and familiar. He had been escorted here by Constable Grant, after he had stopped crying and the feeling had returned to his — well, everything. Here he had met with a Youth Advocate named Susan (or Sharon, he couldn't recall now) to whom he had explained how he had come to be here today, and when pressed, why he had been interviewed by the Constable so many times.

The Youth Advocate had explained that he was going to be placed in an emergency foster home while the Constabulary conducted their investigations. He didn't actually care what was going to happen, so he just agreed with whatever was said, even though he felt he didn't deserve the compassion he was being shown. Head bowed and eyes closed, Laurence saw the face of the boy he had almost condemned floating in the darkness. He had promised to meet Kenny again next week, but he probably wouldn't be allowed to now, and even if he was, what could he say to his new friend? That he was sorry? How could that simple word be enough to wash away the pain he caused.

Laurence heard the door open and close again, it sounded like several people had entered the room. After a moment of whispered conversation amongst the newcomers, the sound of footsteps approached him. “Hi, again.” came a soft voice from in front of Laurence. His head shot up and his eyes snapped open. He saw the boy stood before him, just as he had seen him many hours earlier. “You look upset.” the boy said. Laurence laughed, not unkindly, but at the absurdity of the reintroduction. The boy had said almost those exact words to him before when they first met. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he looked Kenny straight in the eyes, “I'm sorry.” he said, hoping the boy would believe him.

“I know you are.” Kenny told him with a slightly forced smile, then leaning closer and speaking quietly so that the adults wouldn't hear him, continued “But I'm still bloody pissed off at you!” Laurence's reaction to this statement wasn't what Kenny had expected, roaring with laughter the teenager told him that “I never, in a million years, ever expected to hear you swear!” Kenny couldn't keep himself from actually grinning at the older boy's incredulity, and collapsing onto the cushion next to him declared “You better get used to it.”

Nonplussed, Laurence just stared at the boy, “What do you mean?”. Glancing back at the adults before continuing, Kenny said “Didn't Sheila tell you? We're the foster family.” Laurence blinked, but didn't say anything. “Oh, I haven't introduced you, that's my mum and dad, Pierce and Jackie Ellisson.” Kenny pointed to the other two people that stood next to each other. “I thought your last name was 'Lewis'.” a confused Laurence told the boy. “Uh huh, I'm adopted, but I decided to keep my name.” The knot in Laurence's stomach loosened, and he felt a sense of relief wash over him, perhaps this wouldn't be as bad as he was fearing.

“The Ellissons are really nice,” Kenny told Laurence, “I mean, they only make us work down the mines at weekends.” The adults in the corner tried to suppress their chuckles as they saw the look of bewilderment on Laurence's face. “You're kidding!” he said looking from Kenny to the adults, then back again. “Of course I am!” Kenny told him, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation, “They super nice really.” Laurence sighed, “Swearing *and* lying, this is a lot to get used to.” Kenny playfully punched him on the arm for that one. “So,” said Kenny with a serious expression on his face, “do you want to be my foster-brother?”

“I'm sorry it's a bit, erm, childish.” Pierce apologized, “But Kenny insisted that you have the room next to his.” For what must have been the thousandth, Laurence told the man “It's fine. I'm just happy to be that you're allowing me to stay here.” Pierce pulled him into a one-armed hug, “We're happy you decided to stay with us too. Especially Kenny.” At the mention of the boy's name, Laurence's face fell again, “He's still mad at me, even when he's trying to help, I can see it in his eyes.” Pierce paused, as if trying to find the right words to reassure Laurence with, “Kenny's a complicated young man, and fully winning his trust again will take time. But, he will forgive you and he'll keep helping you too whatever happens.” Thanking the man as he left the room, and closing the door behind him, Laurence stripped off his shirt and pants, and collapsed onto the soft bed.

A knock on the door woke Laurence some time later. Shuffling to the edge of the bed, and rubbing his bleary eyes, he called out for the knocker to enter. It was Kenny, dressed in red and blue plaid pyjamas, “Hey, can we talk?” he asked as he walked into the room. “Sure.” Laurence answer, feeling he couldn't refuse the boy. Sitting heavily on the bed next to Laurence, Kenny remained silent for several long minutes, seemingly lost in thought. “Can I ask you something weird?” he said eventually. “Sure.” Laurence answered again. “Am *I* weird if I,” he took a steadying breath, “if I enjoyed what they did during the interview.” When Laurence didn't answer immediately Kenny continued “I mean it was the most scared I've ever been, but the most excited at the same time, and I actually, you know, shot my stuff at the end. And I mean really shot, but just a little bit 'cause it was the first time. And I kinda liked it, but it was weird. So, am I weird?”

It took Laurence minute to process what Kenny had said before he confessed that, “If you're weird for liking it, so am I.” Kenny just stared, open-mouthed as Laurence proceeded to give a brief account of his 'adventures' at the Constabulary. “I've been in there more than a dozen times, and they never let me cum, because I didn't confess.” Kenny interrupted, “But you did confess this time.” Laurence nodded, “Yes, but you got to cum instead of me, Constable Grant didn't do anything to me this time.” Kenny looked like he was about to speak again when Laurence interrupted him this time, “Can I finish what I was saying, please?” Kenny nodded. “So after each interview, I'd go home and keep trying to edge myself, and I got pretty good at it too.” he told with boy, with a hint of pride.

“Have you ever done it to anyone else?” Kenny asked breathlessly, “No.” Laurence said simply. With that, Kenny jumped off the bed, pulled down his pyjama bottoms, and flung himself back down onto the bed with his arms folded behind his head. His cock still rock hard — it hadn't gone down since Constable Daniels had started working on it this morning -and pointing straight up, Kenny gestured towards it and asked his new foster-brother, “Wanna try it?”


End file.
